Leaves Underfoot
by Miss Mungoe
Summary: She's barely bigger than a fawn, but her smile is a hunter's snare and she ropes him in quite despite himself, spinning charms like a forest nymph with eyes dark like soil and her hair braided with remembrance. – deer-folk AU. Gajeel/Levy, some Natsu/Lucy and mentions of past Pantherlily/Shagotte.
1. part 1

AN: So this is the deer-folk AU I've been writing on tumblr, inspired by a prompt and kroc's wonderful art. The general idea is this: they're all forest dwelling fauna, so expect a good deal of deer-related headcanons and vocabulary, flower crowns and courtship rituals spawned from the imagination of yours truly.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/**krocatoo**.

* * *

**Leaves Underfoot**

by Miss Mungoe

* * *

_part 1: forest fae and folk_

"You know, if you'd just stop glaring I'm sure they'd be amendable to letting us tag along."

Gajeel only furrowed his brows in answer, and Lily rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest as he turned his gaze towards the other deer at the bottom of the sloping hill. Laughter drifted back through the sparse copse of trees dotting the edge of the clearing where a group of does were playing in the sun.

"Summer will be over soon," he continued, ignoring his friend's glower, but the glare lessened a little at the unmasked gravity in his tone. "The days are getting shorter. Soon the leaves will be turning, and then what?"

Gajeel shifted his weight. "We'll manage."

Lily shook his head. "We've barely managed this far, and that's with luck and a mellow season on our side. We can't last another winter on our own – you know that."

Gajeel was silent a long time. "Finding a new herd–" he began, then stopped, glaring down at the small group of does.

"Is necessary. The old hurts will heal with time," Lily finished for him. The scar on his brow seemed to throb in response, but he ignored it, like he ignored the way Gajeel's gaze flickered towards it. It had taken weeks of rest and the help of a grumbling old forest fae with little patience for deer-folk to get them fit for travel, but he could still feel it with every move of his brow. He was lucky he hadn't lost an eye, although he'd have gladly given both eyes to have his mate at his side instead.

But she was gone to greener fields beyond the reach of living folk, and clutching her memory near would do them no good at present. That was a hurt better left for another time, when they weren't struggling to survive from day to day. They'd made it this far on their own, but they needed a herd come winter.

But the stubbornness of deer-folk is infamous, and his old friend's even more so. Gajeel wouldn't ask for charity if his life depended on it, and though he hadn't said the words outright Lily knew the thought of settling down with a new herd made him wary. Considering what happened to their old one–

–_the gunshot rang, loud in the silence of the forest, the sound the unnatural cacophony of man-made fire and iron, but the scream that tore through the under-brush was louder still, and he pushed his legs to move __faster, faster–_

"_**Shagotte!"**_

Lily closed his eyes, and breathed once in and out. The pain lingered beneath his ribcage, nestled sharp like a shard, but he pushed the feeling down, piling necessity atop it until it was nothing but a dull ache. They were running out of options, and they didn't have the liberty of choosing. "Gajeel," was all he said.

The answering sigh was one of reluctant resignation, and it was followed by a nod. "Yeah. I know." Then without warning, he started on his way down the slope, and Lily followed, brows raised in interest. He'd expected a little more resistance – some more grumbling, maybe even some irate pacing, but his friend had relented with surprising ease.

He cast a glance at the yellowing leaves of a nearby tree, and frowned. Summer had been a short affair and autumn was just around the bend, and it wouldn't be long until the first frost settled over the forest. Gajeel, for all his short temper and general lack of foresight, had no doubt taken the fact to heart.

He didn't bother to be discreet, Lily could tell, and so made no effort to do so himself. They were approaching in friendship, and springing up on the new herd's does without announcing their presence would have them kicked out before they'd even opened their mouths. Lily wondered a moment at the wisdom of letting Gajeel take the lead, but didn't have much time to voice his opinion, as they came within sight of the clearing.

The laughter cut off with a staggering abruptness, and several heads turned in their direction – Lily could count eight deer-folk, but they'd followed the herd long enough to know it was much bigger. The rest must be some ways off.

As they stepped out from the treeline, a young buck cantered up, putting himself between them and the others – the action one of obvious distrust, though Lily couldn't blame him. At his elbow lingered a pretty golden doe, and a small, speckled fawn.

A hush had fallen over the clearing, and it dragged on until the buck spoke. "So. Finally decided to come forward, huh?" He squared his shoulders, brows furrowing in warning. "Was wondering when you'd get the courage."

_Oh no. _Lily resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. Of all the things to say by way of introduction. He couldn't see his friend's expression, but knew him well enough to know that it wasn't friendly.

"Gajeel," he warned, but it was too late,

"You wanna go, kid? _Huh_?" He stalked forward, throwing all attempts at niceties to the wind with the simple but hostile gesture. He had a good few inches on the smaller buck, and Lily lamented his own lack of foresight in letting Gajeel have the first word. _Graces and spirits defend us._

For his part, the young buck didn't seem to mind. "You offering, big guy?"

Gajeel took another step, but the buck didn't budge. "Careful, brat. These antlers ain't just for show."

"Well then, _bring_–"

"_Natsu_." The golden doe had stepped up to his side, putting a hand on his shoulder. "I think we should ask what they want first." She cast a wary glance in Lily's direction, and he nodded in turn, careful not to make any sudden movements. The other deer gathered at their back were tense, some of them pacing restlessly. They had to be some ways off from the rest of the herd, or surely their leader would have stepped forward.

The buck – Natsu – didn't take his eyes off Gajeel. "I think it's pretty clear what they want, Luce."

Gajeel glowered right back. "Oh yeah? And what's that?"

The golden doe sighed, and Lily had a sudden sense of fellow-feeling for her. When she looked up, gaze pleading – having no doubt deemed him the sensible one, and rightly so – he took it as an allowance to step forward.

"I'm called Lily, and the rude one is Gajeel," he began, ignoring the muttered oath from the stag in question. "We've been on our own, and as autumn is approaching, we were looking for a herd to join." And ever one for formalities, Lily bent down in a low bow. "If you'd let us speak to the head of your herd, I'm sure we could avoid anyone butting antlers." He threw a warning glance in Gajeel's direction, and was cheerfully ignored for his efforts.

The russet coloured buck looked ready to protest, but was shoved rather unceremoniously to the side by the golden doe. She smiled, and bowed in turn. "We can arrange that," she agreed. Turning to look over her shoulder, she addressed one of the others. "Jet, you're the fastest. Run and fetch Makarov, would you?"

The one she'd addressed looked sceptical at the prospect of leaving, but nodded his head once, before bounding off beyond the treeline and into the forest.

"Oye, Lucy, what are you doing? They're obviously up to no good!" Natsu pointed at Gajeel for emphasis. "I mean, just look at 'em!"

Gajeel growled and took another step forward, before Lily could forcibly pull him back. "And what do you mean by that, huh?"

Natsu glared right back. "You look shady is all I'm saying."

Gajeel snorted. "At least I look like I can reach the bottom branches." He grinned. "Still letting yer ma get yer leaves fer ya?"

"Hey," Natsu said, in a surprisingly dark tone, pointing a finger at the taller stag. "Watch it."

Gajeel crossed his arms in a tell-tale pose that said he was one insult away from locking antlers, and Lily had half a mind to haul him away when a small shape suddenly appeared between the two, startling the dark stag quite despite himself. Lily would have laughed if the small female hadn't opened her mouth.

"Are you from up north?" she asked, peering up into Gajeel's face, seemingly unperturbed by his earlier show of blatant hostility, and Lily wondered a moment if her intervention had been to stop them from butting heads, or if she was just plain curious. She was a tiny thing, barely bigger than a fawn, with a set of dark eyes and a wreath of forget-me-nots weaved into her mane. "You look like you're from up north. There aren't any coats so dark this far south."

Gajeel shifted his stance, visibly uncomfortable at the barrage of questions. "Uh...yeah."

She smiled, and tilted her head. "I'm Levy," she said, but was nudged to the side as Natsu stepped in front of her.

"Oye," he warned. "Our does aren't up for grabs, so don't go getting any ideas."

"Hey!" The golden doe smacked him upside the head before pushing her way to the front. Her mane was longer, and she wore a wreath of marigolds. "_We_ can speak for ourselves, thank you."

The littlest doe nodded her agreement. "Or would you like us to tell Erza you think we need your protection?" she asked cheerfully.

Lily didn't know who this Erza was, but the name was enough to instil terror in the young buck's eyes, and he grumbled, nudging the dirt at his feet with his hoof as he added, with all the petulance of a stumbling fawn, "_No._"

The golden doe smiled. "I thought as much." Turning to Lily, she offered an amicable smile. "I apologise on behalf of this oaf. He's butted his head against a few too many trees and sometimes he doesn't know what he's saying."

Lily grinned. "I can relate," he said with a look in Gajeel's direction.

"_Hey_–"

"I'm Lucy," she continued, cutting Gajeel off as she bowed her head. "I'll be your mediator in your audience with the head of our herd. You said you hail from the North?"

Lily nodded, thankful she addressed him, as Gajeel would have no doubt managed to turn even that into an insult. "Yes. We've been travelling south since spring." He paused. "It's...been a long journey."

There was more to it, and she could no doubt tell, but she only nodded, and didn't press for details. "I'm sure Makarov will be accommodating."

The little doe at her side nodded. "We've always got room for two more," she said, and Lily watched with raised brows the way her eyes kept flickering towards Gajeel, and had to stifle a grin. _Well, now. _

Her eyes crinkled in a pretty smile. "And we could use an extra set of hands once winter approaches."

Gajeel snorted. "No kidding. It's a wonder yer all fed with how short you all are." He grinned down at her. "We'll reach the branches for ya, shortstuff – don't sweat it."

Lily closed his eyes, but only before catching the offended expression that passed over the littlest doe's face. _"Excuse me?"_

Lily opened his eyes in time to see Gajeel's grin widen. "I'd heard the southern deer-folk were smaller, but you've got to be the tiniest of the lot," he continued, happily ignorant of the dark look that had settled on the blue-haired doe's face. "I've met bigger fawn back home."

"Oh dear," Lucy muttered, and there was that fellow-feeling again, but this time even Natsu seemed inclined to keep away as the little doe raised herself to her full, distinctly unimpressive height, the top of her head barely level with Gajeel's chest.

"I'll have you know, I can gather my leaves quite without _your_ help!"

Gajeel raised a brow, and Lily wanted to gag him. "Yeah? What are ya gonna do, _climb_? Or fly, maybe. Yer small enough to be a fae, so maybe you've got magic wings." He chuckled, visibly amused at his own joke.

Levy seethed, but didn't seem to have a comeback – or she was just too riled up to think of one – so she simply pointed at him, mouth working though all that came out was an indignant shriek of sorts. Then she spun on her heel, tail twitching in irritation as she stalked away without another word.

"Well," Lily said, as he watched the small doe cut through the group of gathered deer, who all stepped away to allow her to pass as she made her way towards the edge of the clearing where a heavy-set buck was waiting for her. He turned to glare at Gajeel, who looked much too innocent.

"_That_ could have gone better."

* * *

AN: So this idea has charmed me right out of my socks.


	2. part 2

AN: Hope you're enjoying it so far! And I forgot to mention it last chapter, but **approvesport** on tumblr has drawn a damn good rendition of faun!Natsu and you should definitely check it out!

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/krocatoo.

* * *

_part 2: weave your flowers like a crown, put it on my head_

"That...that...bark-chewing _moose_!"

Levy paced, arms crossed, beneath the low-hanging branches of a birch,the leaves of which just barely brushed the top of her head, which made it worse, really.

"I mean, who does he think he is, throwing insults around even as they're asking for sanctuary? Huh? Well, that's the last time I try to be nice – just you watch!"

Lucy quirked a brow from where she sat, leaning against the trunk of the tree. "So...what? You're going to give him the full force of your infamous wrath?" Her severity was betrayed by the fact that she was trying to stifle a grin, and Levy threw her hands up.

"Lu! This is not funny – that was the height of disrespect! I can't believe Makarov let them join!" She threw a look towards the other end of the clearing, where the head of their herd was standing, along with the dark stag – the polite one with the scar. The other one, Gajeel, was lurking a few paces off, seemingly content in his blatantly reclusive behaviour.

"Well," Lucy said, and Levy turned her eyes on her, "You _are_ short, Lev." She gestured to the branches overhead, the corners of her mouth quirking up. "And why are you so upset, anyway? You've never been this sensitive about your size." Her expression was one of bemusement, but when Levy turned her face away realization dawned so fast she nearly lurched out of her seat.

"Spirits, you – you _like_ him!" she exclaimed, mouth curving with glee. "That's what's got you so upset – you fancied him and then he insulted you." She grinned. "Well, now, _Levy._ No mate in three seasons but the first foreigner who saunters in has you bouncing like a fawn."

Levy's tail twitched. "Yes, well...not all of us are lucky enough to find a mate in the same herd."

Lucy raised a brow. "Natsu only asked me last spring, you know, there's no need for that tone."

Levy huffed, but a smile tugged at her mouth. "And you thought he wouldn't ask."

"Well, strictly speaking, I thought it'd take him another few seasons – I didn't say he'd _never_ ask."

"But he he did."

"He did," Lucy agreed with a smile. "But if you intend to give him the cold shoulder, I don't think _Gajeel_ will."

Levy groaned, and sat down in the grass. "I'd rather he didn't, now. It'd be much too humiliating."

"What about the other one, then? Lily?" Lucy asked. "He's very handsome, and he's got some grey in his mane. You'd think someone would have snapped him up by now."

Levy was quiet a moment. "He had someone," she said, after a pause. "Didn't you see the old wreath around one of his antlers? The flowers were all dry, which means whoever made it hasn't been around to make him a new one." She looked up at her friend. "Do you think that's why they left? They lost their old herd?"

Lucy glanced over at the dark stag, a frown tugging her brows down. "They didn't offer a lot of details when they spoke with Makarov, but it would make sense as to why they're travelling alone." She looked back at Levy, and this time her expression was distinctly cunning. "Did you spot any flower crowns on Gajeel?"

Levy blushed, and glared. "I didn't look for one."

"Sure you didn't."

"I _didn't_."

Lucy held up her hands, and was about to say something when an odd look settled on her face. "Well, if you didn't you can check _now_," she said, as she rose from her seat without warning, and Levy had only a moment to react before a shadow fell over her. When she looked up, Lucy was walking away, throwing a clever smile over her shoulder, and then rude stag from earlier was looming at her side.

She didn't issue an invitation, but he didn't seem to need one as he sat down in the grass beside her. There was an awkwardness to his movements that drew her gaze towards his flank, and the jagged scar running the length of it. An old wound from the looks of the scar, but it couldn't be that old to still give him trouble.

Her curiosity thrummed like a living thing, but she clamped her mouth shut to keep her questions in. He'd be the first to speak, or so help her.

It took him a while of just sitting around awkwardly before he cleared his throat. "Sorry."

Levy blinked, and with a grumble, he elaborated. "Fer earlier."

She raised a brow, and threw a sideways glance at his friend, who was watching them without making it seem like he was. "He made you come over here, didn't he?" she asked, tone accusing.

He muttered something under his breath, but didn't deny the claim. "I said I was _sorry_ – what more do ya need?"

She sniffed. "I'd like you to apologise because you feel like it, not because you were told to. You're not a fawn."

He grumbled something, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well then yer going to have ta wait a long time, because that's all yer getting. I ain't apologising for stating a fact."

Levy glared. "And what was that? That I'm short? Or that I'm a fae?"

A ghost of a grin tugged at his mouth. "Well aren't ya?" He didn't elaborate on which he meant, but he didn't need to – the mocking grin was enough.

She turned her nose up. "Not the _point._ The point was how you said it. I was being polite – you were being _rude._"

He snorted. "Well, tough luck, shortstuff – I'm usually rude."

"It wouldn't kill you to try to be nice."

"I don't know – I haven't tried." He grinned. "It just might."

She rolled her eyes. "Does your friend usually laugh at your jokes?"

"Lily doesn't have a sense of humour."

"I don't know if you should be pointing fingers."

"I don't need to be funny."

"No, because you've got _so_ many other compelling character traits."

He glowered, and she raised a brow, unduly pleased at his reaction. But if he thought he could use his size to push her around, he had another thing coming.

He seemed to be contemplating something, though she couldn't for the life of her figure out what, other than a fitting comeback. But there was something else in his eyes – indecision, or something of the like, which led her to wonder if he wasn't seriously considering saying he was sorry, because what else could there be?

Seemingly reading her thoughts on her face, he said gruffly, "I still ain't apologising."

She glared, and he glared right back. "Fine."

"_Fine._"

A tense sort of silence settled over their heads, and Levy felt her ears twitch, but he didn't seem like he was about to budge, and so neither did she. The sun slanting through the branches above them cast odd shadows across the grass; it was getting late, and they would be going back soon, with two more than what they'd set out with that morning. It would take some getting used to, especially if the stag at her side insisted on being so stubborn.

She spared him a sidelong look, and found him glaring into the forest, brows furrowed so sharply it was a wonder he could see anything at all. He was larger than most of the bucks in their herd, and had a dark coat and a long mane he kept free of any kind of adornments. And, she noted, cheeks colouring despite herself, there were no flower wreaths to be seen.

Fingers idly tugging at her own crown, Levy wondered what he was thinking, and was quite deep in thought when he suddenly rose form his seat, startling her nearly out of her wits.

He didn't look at her as he spoke. "The old stag said we weren't allowed ta make any advances until next spring," he said, tail twitching with something she couldn't interpret – not ire, but something close. He said nothing for a moment, and when the implications behind his words settled, she felt her cheeks flare with warmth. _Is he–? _

"Oh," she squeaked, and clamped her mouth shut, horrified at the high pitch to her voice. "Oh, you're–" she couldn't even say the words.

He toed the dirt with one of his hooves, and breathed out sharply through his nose. "This ain't...this ain't–" be began, then cut off with a muttered oath. "What I'm saying is–"

"I won't make any wreaths," she declared suddenly, then bit down on her lip. "For anyone else. I mean–" she clenched her hands in her lap, and wondered if she could go any redder. Or make things any more awkward. _Oh, for the love of all that is green, _"Until next spring, I mean. I...I'll wait."

He nodded once, brusquely. "Good."

Levy felt something swell beneath her ribcage, and nodded back. "Y-yes. Good!"

An awkward lull settled between them, where they looked anywhere but at each other, and Levy marvelled a moment at the strangeness of it all, and the sudden turn of events. A smile lurked along her mouth, but she didn't dare let it show, for fear that he'd change his mind, or worse – throw it back in her face.

But he did neither. Instead he turned to walk back towards the others, but stopped a pace away, and Levy watched the muscles in his shoulders tense, as though he steeled himself to say something. The tops of his antlers tangled in the leaves overhead, and she watched his tail twitch.

Then he glanced over his shoulder, "Ya better not choose any sissy flowers – I ain't prancing around with a fairy ringon my head."

She blinked. Then his words settled, and her ire flared like a forest fire, and she called after him, forgetting that they had an audience, "Hey! I'll use whatever flowers I please, thank you very much!"

He only grinned as he strode away, leaving her fuming beneath the birch, but her anger was a short-lived thing, and soon a small smile was blooming in its wake.

She looked up at the leaves, tipped with yellow in their heralding of the coming autumn, and she nodded to herself. It wasn't a promise – he didn't seem the type to make promises, and she wasn't gullible enough to give her entire heart to a stag she'd just met. But it was _something._ An agreement of sorts, and she could live with that. Another season without a mate wouldn't make her any stranger, no more than her sudden fascination with the new addition to their little herd. Most would no doubt chalk it off to her love of foreign ways and folk, and perhaps they weren't completely wrong.

She cheerfully ignored Lucy's knowing look as she passed her by on her way towards her brothers. Makarov had a twinkle in his eye that told her he knew more than he let on, but she ignored that, too, and went to settle next to Jet and Droy.

"Are we all set to leave?"

They shared a look, before glancing rather deliberately over at the newcomers. Levy felt her ears twitch, knowing full well what they were thinking if they'd heard the last bit of her exchange with Gajeel, and she wondered what they'd say. The subject of mates had come up on several occasions – mostly in response to the annual 'isn't it about time you settled down, Levy?' that she'd been served every year since she'd reached maturity. They both always waved them off, and convinced her of the perks of waiting and choosing wisely.

Her recent, rash decision was, therefore, doubtless going to garner some comments.

"Spring is a way off, still," she said then, before either of them could open their mouths. "You'll have a long winter to judge whether you think him worthy. We _all_ will."

Jet said nothing for a long moment, but watched her warily. Then, "Okay."

Droy looked appalled, but the smaller buck only shook his head. "She's right. Spring is a ways off, yet. If he's a bad sort we'll have driven him off by then."

That seemed to appease him somewhat, and Levy smiled. "And if he's not?" she asked, as she cast a glance over at the two stags, their dark coats standing out amongst the rest of the gathered deer. Gajeel glanced in her direction, but averted his gaze quickly, saying something to his friend.

When she looked back at Jet, there was an odd smile on his face – the indulgent kind that he'd used to give her when she'd been a fawn and had begged him to pick the berries out of her reach, even if she'd already eaten enough to give her a stomach-ache.

He sighed. "Then I'll personally help you find the _sissiest_ flowers in this forest to make your wreath," he declared.

Levy could only smile.


	3. part 3

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/krocatoo.

* * *

_part 3: these dark autumn shadows _

The fact that they _weren't_ courting spread like fire through dry grass, and by the time the leaves had turned both yellow and red and the days colder and shorter, the whole herd knew of his intentions with their littlest doe.

He'd never been one for paying attention to herd hearsay in the past, but finding himself at the centre of conversation was, to say the least, unnerving_._

"You brought this on yourself, you know," Lily told him one day, sitting by the river with the rest of the herd a few paces off, the does and fawns playing in the fallen leaves by the riverbank.

"You've said that already."

"Yes, well, I'm saying it again."

Gajeel glared. "You were the one who told me ta go for it."

Lily snorted. "I told you to settle things with her – put yourself in a better light. I didn't explicitly tell you to _court_ her."

Gajeel grumbled. "Spring's a long ways off. The old stag said we weren't allowed ta do anything before that."

Lily grinned. "Afraid she'd meet someone else?"

Gajeel cast a glance at his friend's antlers, and the dried crown of white water-lilies snug around the base of the horns. "_You_ didn't wait," was all he said.

An old ghost of a smile flickered across the older stag's face. "And let someone else make a move? What do you take me for?" The smile widened. "And she was the one who asked first, if you must know."

Gajeel raised a brow. "Yeah?"

Lily nodded. "Told me straight out how it was, all regal-like with her held high – you'd think she was challenging me to butt heads," he laughed, and his eyes crinkled with remembered mirth. "She was rare, she was."

Gajeel said nothing to that, but drew his eyes away from the dried-up wreath. It wouldn't last another winter, but Lily didn't seem inclined to remove it.

He looked across the clearing where Levy was playing in the fallen leaves with Happy, the fawn always at Natsu's flank. Laughter drifted back to where they sat, and he noted she'd exchanged her flower wreath for one of leaves of varying shades of yellow. A pace away the two bucks that always followed her around lingered, eyes alert for hunters and other fell things that lurked in the autumn shadows.

It was an oddly domestic sight, and something roiled within him as he remembered similar afternoons with his old herd – fawns bouncing between the legs of the older deer, and the does laughing by the cold mountain springs. And in the shade of the mountainside, the quiet footsteps of Men, the sound drowned by the rushing water.

"I can tell what you're thinking, and I'd advise you to put those thoughts away."

Lily's voice drew him from where he'd retreated within his own memory, and brought him back to the present – a forest not so dark, and no mountain springs in sight. The laughter hadn't paused, bubbling along with the cold river-water against the stones, and a breeze ruffled the sparsely covered trees overhead.

"We're getting attached," Gajeel said at length, the words seeming almost hollow despite the weight they carried.

Lily's smile was a forced thing. "Yes," he agreed, and left it at that. There was nothing more to be said on the matter; they both knew the peril that lurked beyond the forest borders, and the evil that sometimes slithered in along the forest floor, to gather and hide in the shade of the trees and the tall grass.

He watched the fawns tugging playfully at the tails of their elders, only to be scooped up and thrown, shrieking with laughter, into a pile of leaves, sending them fluttering in all directions. There was an innocence in that sound that bespoke a protected existence far removed from iron and fire, of traps lurking in the bushes and bullets aimed to kill.

He wondered idly how long something like that could last.

He'd been so caught up in his own thoughts, he hadn't noticed her approach before she was kneeling before them, cheeks rosy from the cold and brown eyes crinkling at the corners with laughter.

"You're both being very unsociable, sitting here on your own!"

No doubt thinking he'd be quick to say something rude, Lily beat him to the punch, "Apologies, Levy, we were talking of old days when we should have been enjoying the present."

Gajeel resisted the urge to roll his eyes – leave it Lily to make something as simple as 'we're too damn old to play in the leaves' sound so grand.

For her part, Levy seemed to accept the excuse readily enough, gaze lingering only a little too long on the dried flower-wreath around Lily's antlers, before she turned her smile on Gajeel. "The little ones were asking if you wanted to come and play, but I told them they had to ask you themselves, and no one dares." She cast a glance across the riverbank, where a group of fawns were hiding behind the trunk of an ash tree.

She turned back with a smile. "You'd win some points if you did," she told him.

Gajeel grumbled, gaze settling on the group of fawns, who receded further behind the tree. "Later," he said, and watched surprise flicker across her features. She'd no doubt expected him to vehemently decline.

"He's good with the littleuns," Lily said then, with a sly smile. "If they can get used to the glaring." At Gajeel's look, he laughed. "By all that's green I can't figure out _what_, but there's something they find appealing. Maybe it _is_ the glare."

Levy grinned. "Happy was quite taken by your antlers, Gajeel. He wants a pair just like them," she declared, eyes alight with mirth. "Natsu looked ready to throw himself in the river. You might expect a duel soon – you know how proud he is of his own set."

Gajeel snorted. "I'll take that runt on any day."

"If you do, make sure you watch your hip," Lily interjected with a grin. "You're not a fawn anymore, Gajeel, and best you remember that."

"That is _rich_ coming from you."

"I'm not the one jumping at chances to butt heads," the older stag pointed out. "I'm well aware of _my_ age. And that old wound's been giving you trouble since the temperature dropped."

Gajeel shifted in his seat at the mention, and tried to avoid the way the large brown eyes shot towards his flank, and the scar bisecting his dark coat. It was impossible to miss, but he hadn't felt self-conscious about it before now.

But there was no disgust on her face, only a wary sort of curiosity that spoke of questions she wasn't yet comfortable enough to ask. He resolved then to get a query out of her before winter was over.

"Levy!"

Looking over her shoulder, Gajeel followed her gaze towards where Lucy stood by the pile of leaves, a group of fawns ambling at her flanks, tugging eagerly at her hands. Levy turned back to them with an apologetic smile.

"Looks like I'm needed," she laughed, and rose smoothly from her seat. She spared him a last, lingering look before she bounded across the bank, the gold and brown of the leaves bright against her silvery-blue coat.

When he looked back at Lily, the expression that met him told him his ogling hadn't gone unnoticed. "She's a lovely creature – you don't see a coat like that every day. It was certainly rare in the North."

Gajeel grumbled, "What are you getting at, you meddling old goat?"

Lily grinned, the gesture tugging at his scar. "I'm just stating a fact."

"You've always got a motive."

"Well..."

"Out with it."

Lily snorted. "Can't an old stag appreciate the pretty young things around him without being questioned?"

"Not _you._"

Lily was quiet a moment. Then he smiled. "I was just wondering how you roped her into making you a wreath."

Gajeel sighed. "And there it is."

"Not to mention, the very same day you met, and that's after you outright insulted her on her own turf." He shook his head. "Maybe the rumours are true and this forest really is enchanted."

Gajeel snorted. "You been sniffin' pixie dust, greyback?"

A hand cuffed him across the back of his head, and he grinned. "Just askin'."

Lily shook his head. "An old stag can marvel at the world, Gajeel. I wasn't expecting..._this_," he said, gaze sweeping across the riverbank, and the gathered deer-folk, "when we set out last spring." His smile turned wry. "It's not entirely amiss, thinking there might be more behind it than simple coincidence." He threw the younger stag a sidelong look. "Especially considering how smitten you've become."

"_Smitten_–"

"Is a good description, with how you can't stop looking at her."

Gajeel turned his eyes resolutely away from the does and fawns playing in the leaves, and met Lily's knowing look with a glower, which only seemed to amuse the older stag.

"Don't take it personally, Gajeel – I'm happy you've found a place here, however much you pretend at being a recluse."

Lily was quiet another long moment. "She reminds me of Shagotte, you know," he said then. "Or what her daughter might have been like, if the spirits had ever blessed us with one." He let the words hang between them, heavy with unspoken grief – the kind that would always linger, regardless of how many seasons passed.

Gajeel didn't bother telling him that it wasn't too late to find someone new, knowing full well that Lily intended to spend his remaining seasons alone. Or, as alone as one might be, in a raucous herd like the one they'd found.

"You'll be fawn-sitting yet, old goat," he said instead, throwing him a meaningful look, mouth curving upwards in a smirk.

Lily raised a brow, but there was a smile there, now. "That's a bold promise, Gajeel – she hasn't given you a wreath _yet._"

Gajeel shrugged. "I know a good thing when I see one," was all he said.

And Lily understood, the way he always did. "Aye. You better not let her out of your sight – spring might be a ways off yet, but once the winter thaws there'll no doubt be a small herd of eager bucks jumping to get her attention."

Gajeel's ear twitched at the thought, but he offered only a grunt in response. Lily grinned. "And you better be ready to accept whatever wreath she makes you, no matter the flowers."

"Yeah, yeah. I'd wear a bloody pixie crown and you know it, so you can tone down the mockery."

Lily quirked a brow. "You must have it bad if you'd admit that without even trying to deny it." He gave him a look. "But don't go getting too comfortable, now. There's still a cold winter ahead, and there's been cases where a good frost has brought many foolish folk to their senses, if you remember."

"I remember," he muttered, at the fleeting memory of romances chilled by the cold. The winter months were always hard up north, and a good time to judge whether a potential mate was worth his or her salt. It wasn't uncommon that by the time the snow melted, a promised pair might go separate ways without exchanging wreaths.

The thought that she'd find him lacking in some way didn't sit well with him.

Seeming to sense his thoughts, Lily nudged his side with his elbow. "Don't you go counting your losses before you've actually _lost_ – she's still stealing glances at you every chance she gets. That's a good a sign as any she's as enamoured as you." He grinned, and Gajeel felt some of the tension in his shoulders bleed away at the sight.

"Now you've just got to keep her interested 'til spring. I'd personally recommend keeping your mouth shut as much as possible, but knowing you, that's asking a bit much."

Gajeel only grumbled, but Lily's laughter was genuine and it had been a whole season since he'd last heard it, so he let the remark slide. His good humour seemed to have chased away some of the ghosts always clinging to his smiles, and Gajeel breathed a little easier in the cold afternoon air. Overhead the autumn sun peeked through the branches of the trees, slanting across the forest floor and glinting off the water, and for a blessed moment they sat in comfortable silence.

But like all good things, the peace wouldn't last forever, a fact that was driven home by the sudden, furious beat of hooves against the ground and the rustle of branches, before a buck burst past the tree-line, a word spilling from his lips that had Gajeel's stomach lurching with familiar dread–

–"_**Hunter!"**_

* * *

AN: Those of you familiar with my writing will know I'm liable to pull this kind of crap.


	4. part 4

AN: Cerynitis, the Golden Hind, was a great deer sacred to Artemis, goddess of the hunt in Greek mythology.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/krocatoo.

* * *

_part 4: briar rose _

"_**Hunter!" **_

The cry rang across the riverbank, and the next second she was running, hands pushing at the backs of whatever fawns she came across, urging them forward through the under-brush as the herd scattered in different directions.

She didn't have a mind to keep track of where everyone went – they'd meet up later, once the danger had passed. First she needed to get out of the immediate vicinity, and make sure they were only dealing with one hunter. If only–

"_**Mama**_!"

She skidded to a halt, the voice rooting her in her tracks. _Asuka! _

Without a glance towards where the other had taken off or a thought to what she was doing, Levy backtracked, pushing her way through the trees towards the riverbank, a foreign panic driving her forward where instinct told her to run in the opposite direction.

The bank was empty when she got there, out of breath from her run, but there was no sign of either fawn or hunter, and her heart lurched in her chest–

"Levy!"

Expelling a harsh breath at the call, Levy picked her way across the leaves towards the small shape huddled behind a fallen tree-trunk. "Thank the spirits," she murmured, holding out her hands for the fawn to take, drawing her out of her hiding place. Despite the surge of relief she could feel her heart hammering against her chest and the rush of blood in her ears, but there was still no sign of the hunter.

"Come on, let's go after the others," she urged, tugging the little fawn along with her back the way she'd come. The forest was eerily silent around them, the others long gone by now, and she was painfully aware of the noise they were making as they picked their way through the foliage. But making any sudden movements now could be dangerous – she still had no idea where the hunter was.

"I'm scared."

She tightened her grip on the little hand curled in hers, and tried to offer a reassuring smile. "Don't you worry – we'll find your mom and dad. They're probably waiting for us with the others, yeah?"

The little fawn wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, and nodded her head, and Levy tried to make her heart slow its furious pace against her ribcage. _They've probably drawn the hunter ahead. They'll have left the area, maybe– _

A twig snapping had her sucking in a breath, followed by the unnatural _click_ of a man-made weapon, and before she knew what she was doing she'd taken off, pulling Asuka with her as she cut through the forest at a dead run. The yellow of the leaves passed them by in a blur, but it soon became evident to Levy that the fawn wouldn't be able to keep up with her pace for long, and carrying her would only slow them down.

Which left only one thing, really.

The abandoned badger-den was like sent from the spirits, and she nudged the little fawn into the cramped space, murmuring assurances under her breath, although to the little one or to herself, she wasn't entirely sure.

"I'll draw them off," she whispered, spreading leaves and fallen branches over the old den to hide it from sight. "Don't move away from here, okay? I'll come find you when it's safe."

"B-but–"

A small hand reached out for her, but Levy pushed it back with shaking fingers. "Be a brave fawn now, yeah? Your mom and dad wouldn't want you to be hurt. I'll come find you later," she repeated, the promise like bile in her throat. But if she didn't make it back, someone else would, surely. They'd left a trail, and she'd be found sooner or later. Levy just prayed it wasn't by the hunter.

_By all that's green and good in this world, let her stay hidden! _

Then she drew away, ears alert for any sounds in the otherwise quiet forest. She wouldn't take her chances that they'd somehow outrun them – not with a fawn hiding so near. _Cerynitis grant me your speed in flight. _

And so, with a last careful look at the forest around her, Levy ran.

She wasn't fast by any stretch of the imagination – not like Jet, who could outrun just about anyone in the herd. But she was small and lithe, and could slip beneath branches and into hidden nooks even a very skilled hunter would have trouble following her through.

The fact that there was more than _one_ struck her when she rounded a tree, only to nearly barrel right into one, and she threw herself out of the way just in time to avoid the hand making a grab for her hind leg.

Scrambling across the leaves, she caught another looming shadow against the yellow-and-brown backdrop of the forest, but she bounded out of the way, throwing herself through a nearby bush in a desperate attempt to get away. Sharp branches cut against her face, and she clawed at the brambles to push herself out, legs working furiously to carry her forward, her heart in her throat–

The sound of the gunshot registered before the pain did, and then she was falling, legs tangling as she rolled across the forest floor to land in a heap. Her flank erupted with fire and she bit back a scream, eyes watering as she clamped a hand against her hip, only to find her coat soaked through.

Voices reached her from beyond the tree-line, and panic surged in her chest – fiercer than the pain, and it was what she needed to scramble to her feet, pushing herself back into a run despite the incessant throbbing and the warmth trickling down her leg. She couldn't see where she was going and didn't know where she was until she fell into a familiar copse of trees and realized she recognized her surroundings.

Mindful of the tracks she was leaving, she half-walked, half-dragged herself towards where the river cut a sloping curve, pushing herself up enough to wade into the shallow water before she began following its path westward. It would take her some ways away from where the herd would have met up, but she didn't dare double back in case she ran across the hunters again.

At last she stepped out of the cold water, making her way gingerly towards a thicket at the edge of the bank. She was shivering with cold and exhaustion pulled heavily at her limbs, and she tucked herself beneath the shelter of a low-hanging branch that still had a sparse cover of leaves. She just needed to lay low for a while, to make sure the hunters hadn't caught on to her trail. And she needed to rest her eyes just for a little while...

She must have dozed off, because suddenly something was gripping her shoulder, and she startled awake, a scream at the tip of her tongue–

"Hey!"

The gruff voice had her swallowing the shriek, and she blinked through the blur, trying to make her eyes focus on his face where he loomed above her, antlers bright against the dark night sky she could see through the trees behind him.

Through her muddled thoughts, Gajeel was keeping up an angry rant. "The hell d'you think you were doing?! Runnin' back like that – did ya _want_ to get shot? Ya thrice-cursed, reckless fae-ridden doe! You–" he drew his hand back, brows furrowing at the red smear across his palm, and then his fingers were skimming along her flank, and despite her close call Levy felt like telling him it was _most inappropriate, _when he brushed against the wound and she bit back an oath instead. His hand stilled immediately, and she felt him tense.

"Yer hurt."

She was about to agree, but it came out as a hiss as she shifted and the wound made itself evident, as did the pain her earlier panic had drowned out enough for her to get away from her pursuers.

The thought of her escape brought her in mind of something else, and she made a grab for his prodding hand, "Asuka?" she croaked.

He grumbled, "Kid came running after us – found 'er just as we heard the shot." Something passed over his face then, and she blinked.

"What?"

He hesitated. Then, "We found the blood – and bootprints. Lily thought–" he cut off, his expression darkening, and realization dawned on her.

"He thought they'd taken me with them."

Gajeel snorted. "Yer cadaver was more like," he said darkly, and quite disregarding her weak protest, prodded at her flank. "It's shallow," he said then. "Bullet only grazed ya."

She bit back a hysterical laugh. "_Only_?" But through the hysteria she felt relief; a graze meant it would heal without much trouble, if she avoided getting an infection.

"Did anyone else–" she cut herself off, unable to finish the thought, let alone ask it.

He shook his head, and she breathed a little easier. "All accounted for but _one_," he said, prodding her forehead sharply for emphasis, but some of his previous anger seemed to have bled out of him.

"The hunters?" she asked then. "There were two of them. Did you–"

"Both gone. Seems ya shook them off." He looked towards the river. "Clever trick, that. Almost didn't find ya."

Levy felt a weak smile tug at her mouth. "It's quite something isn't it, for a doe who can't even reach the bottom branches."

He looked at her at that, an unreadable expression on his face, and for a moment she wondered if her attempted humour hadn't completely backfired.

Then the corner of his mouth curved, just a hint. "You've got some potential, yet."

She laughed at that, but it trailed off in a groan when the motion jarred her flank. With a glance down at her hip – the silvery coat sticky with blood – she grimaced. "Is it far?" she asked, looking up to meet his gaze. "To where the others are?"

"Two leagues," he told her. "You'd veered off a good ways west."

She was contemplating how to manage travelling a league with her hip in the condition it was, when she was startled quite out of her wits by a pair of hands sliding around her back and beneath her legs, and before she knew quite what had happened he'd pulled her out of the thicket and up into the air.

"W-what do you think you're doing?!" she squeaked, and held on for dear life, but he seemed set on ignoring whatever protests she could come up with, as he set off along the river's edge, mouth pressed in a grim line.

"Carrying ya – the hell does it look like? Ain't no getting back on that leg."

She tried to glare but the effect felt somewhat ruined but the furious warmth in her cheeks, and so she settled for looking at his antlers, as it kept her eyes away from every other part of him pressed flush against her. For his part, Gajeel seemed rather oblivious, though there was a twinkle in his eyes that made her wonder about truth of that observation.

"Ya lost yer wreath," he said then, after a long lull, and she startled, hands flying to her hair to find it loose and bare, her crown of golden leaves lost to the forest from which she'd made it.

"It must have fallen off when I ran," she said, and tried not to think about how his eyes seemed to linger. She swallowed nervously. "It's a shame – there's hardly any nice leaves left on the trees, and there are no flowers this late in the year. Sometimes I'll wear rowanberries if I can find them, but there are so few of them and most of the trees have been picked clean by the birds." Then she clamped her mouth shut, mentally berating herself for going on about hair-decorations like a pixie high off its own dust.

When she chanced a glance up at him, there was an odd look on his face, but where she'd expected mockery, none came.

They'd walked a good while when he suddenly crouched, setting her down against the trunk of a tree. "Get some rest. I'll look for something ta eat," he said. "We've still got a ways to go."

Levy could only nod, and watched him disappear amongst the trees, and took a moment to examine the wound in her flank. He'd been right – it was a graze, and it had stopped bleeding for the moment. She tried not to think too much on how it could have been so much worse, and she clenched her shaking hands together in her lap to make them still.

It took him longer than she'd expected, but then he was kneeling before her, shoving leaves and some rose hips, which she didn't know where he could have possibly found this time of year, into her hands with a gruff order of "_Eat._"

Feeling her stomach rumble in anticipation, she didn't offer any protest, and ate until she felt her hunger sated. It was munching on a leaf that she noticed that something was...off about him.

"What have you got there?" she asked, trying to peer around him, where he seemed to be hiding something. Gajeel grumbled under his breath, but at her curious look, held something out for her to see.

Levy frowned. "A wreath?"

And so it was, but it wasn't like any wreath she'd ever seen, but a thorny-looking thing of birch brambles and rose-bush briars, wound together to form a crown. Amidst the dark twigs there was the odd rose hip, and she could only blink in wonderment at the sight.

He proffered it. "Here."

Her eyes widened as realization dawned. "For _me_?"

He looked away, distinctly uncomfortable and refusing to meet her eyes, and nodded his head brusquely.

Tentatively, Levy reached out to take it, and found when she turned it over in her hands that the thorns had been sheared off, and the rose hips were scattered at regular intervals. It was oddly delicate work, for such a rough-looking thing.

She looked up at Gajeel. "This is very untraditional," she said, as she found herself unable to come up with a better response.

Gajeel looked at her sharply at that, brows furrowed. "Ya don't want it?"

She tugged it closer, almost instinctively. "I didn't say _that_." She looked at the crown again, and without another word, put it on her head, working strands of her hair through the curved twigs until it sat securely around her crown. When she pulled her hands back, she caught him staring, and felt her cheeks colour at the unmasked attention.

"Do...does it look okay?"

An indiscernible emotion passed over his face, and he averted his gaze quickly with a cough, "Uh, yeah."

Something swelled behind her breast, and she found herself grinning, forgetting for a brief moment about the wound and the day's events. "I'll, um," she said, when he rose from his seat, pointedly not looking at her, "I'll tell them I made it myself, if you want."

At his sudden frown, she was quick to amend, "Or– or not! I mean, Makarov might not approve, and it _is_ very untraditional, since I'm kind of supposed to be the one making _you_ a wreath and he did say you had to wait until spring, but–"

"Ya don't always have to say shit," he cut her off, as he bent down to pick her up again, and this time she didn't protest. "Ain't that the point of these things?" he asked, nudging the crown gently. And there was an odd finality about those words that stilled the nervous chatter on her tongue, and Levy could only nod her head, unduly pleased but trying not to show it as they set off through the forest.

The others would notice, but where that once might have bothered her, she found she didn't much mind the talk. They'd defied tradition from the day they'd met, anyway, so she figured there would be little surprise amongst the rest of the herd that they'd do so in this, too.

And if it would distract her brothers from the fact that she'd been _shot_, well, she'd happily show off her briar crown for the whole herd to see.

* * *

AN: It's probably glaringly obvious, but I'm absolutely smitten by the idea of flower crowns as courtship tokens.


	5. part 5

AN: Warning! Author has done extensive research on deer, and then taken shameless artistic liberties with that information to make silly headcanons.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/krocatoo.

* * *

_Part 5: frost-bitten bones and the warmth of your heart_

At the heels of autumn followed a winter so cold, Levy couldn't remember a worse in all her seasons.

Lily said the cold months up North were tougher, and so she figured they'd have to endure – southern folk or not, it wouldn't look good to have them all complaining left and right. It wouldn't make the days any less cold, anyhow.

But by the second week of continuous snowfall, even the two newest additions to their herd were showing signs of being affected by the weather.

Of course, neither Lily nor Gajeel made any vocal complaints, but Gajeel's nose was looking a littler redder than usual, and she'd caught him grumbling about the southern snow being more slush than anything else, and that the powdery winter of the North was easier to manage.

For her part, Levy hadn't spent much time in the actual snow to voice her opinion, confined as she'd been since her unfortunate run-in with the business end of a hunter's gun some weeks earlier. They'd tucked her in an old den they kept the fawns and yearlings and the expectant does over the worst of the winter months. At first she hadn't minded much – Lucy kept her company, her rounded belly growing every day, and together they kept watch over the fawns playing in the snow outside.

But as the days dragged on, Levy had begun to feel the weight of the den pressing down on her, and the urge to stretch her legs grew with every lengthening shadow. And so,

"I want to help with the gathering today."

Three sets of eyes turned in her direction at the declaration, and Levy pursed her lips, sensing resistance. "We're running out of food," she pressed. "And I can't stand sitting her day in and day out – I'll go mad if I don't get out on my feet soon."

"With your patience, I wonder how you'll manage when it's your turn," Lucy hummed, one hand on the curve of her stomach. "Can't be long now." The clever smile playing along the corners of her mouth had Levy and Gajeel averting their eyes in different directions, and she caught Lily's snort where he sat by the den's entrance.

"Well at least I'll have a _purpose_," Levy said, trying, and failing, to fight down the blush that had to be visible for all to see. "My leg is fine – it's been four weeks!"

"And there'll be more if you go running off _now_," came the sharp retort, and she looked up into the face of the glaring little fae – Porlyusica, she was called – who Lily had somehow lured out of her seclusion to treat Levy's wound. "A yearling would have better sense," she snapped. "You'll stay in here another week." And her following glare brooked no arguments.

Levy groaned, and let her head fall back. "A _week_."

Lucy patted her shoulder. "Hey, at least you can keep me company," she said. "And if this weather keeps up, there won't be much gathering done, other than bark off the trees and the odd twig."

"But–"

"_One_ week," the fae cut in, turning her glare on Lily this time as she made for the exit. "You drag me all the way down here to deal with this fawn who can't take a simple piece of advice," she muttered, tugging at the dark stag's ear as she flitted past, but Lily bore it with a patient smile. Then a second later, she was back inside, hands on her hips and a glare tugging at her features.

"You," she said, pointing towards Gajeel. "Come help me – I need to gather some holly."

Gajeel rolled his eyes, but complied with a grumble, moving after the little fae, but his eyes lingered on Levy's as he left and she ducked her head with a grin.

When she looked up Lucy was watching her, looking much too pleased. Levy cleared her throat. "What?"

The golden doe grinned, gaze flickering to Levy's head. "Four weeks and you still haven't taken it off."

Levy made a point of not touching the wreath, but shifted in her seat. "Yes, well...I haven't had the chance to get out much." Usually she'd have made a crown of pine cones and holly to commemorate the first snowfall, but she'd been loath to take off the wreath Gajeel had made her.

Lucy hummed. "It's looking a little worse for wear, though." She tilted her head, reaching out a hand to tuck a lock of blue hair through one of the briars. The rose hips had dried and lost their colour and some had fallen off, but the rest of the crown was mostly intact. It hadn't caused as much of a scandal as Levy had first thought it would, but it had been a source of herd gossip for a solid week before the novelty had worn off. But the knowing grins had lingered longer.

"You going to be okay another week?" Lily asked as he shifted closer. Now that Gajeel had left, there was a little more room in the den.

"I don't have much of a choice," she deadpanned, smoothing her hands over her rumpled coat. A thorough dip in the river was needed once she was allowed outside, freezing water be damned.

"We're just worried about you, Lev," Lucy said. "You gave us quite the scare, you know."

"Yeah," she exhaled. "I know. I just...being cooped up in here is making me a little loony. At least you've been outside to stretch your legs, Lu."

Lucy snorted. "Because Natsu keeps insisting the little one can tell what season it is and shouldn't miss its first winter." She patted her belly with a wry smile. "But it's good for me to get a little exercise, though getting up used to be easier."

Levy closed her eyes as she heard Lily asking about names and when conversation turned to other subjects she found herself drifting off, huddled close to Lucy's shoulder as the voices turned to a steady drum at the edge of her hearing, the dry warmth of the den lulling her into a restless sleep.

She was woken by a hand on her shoulder and found Gajeel kneeling before her, an odd look on his face. The den was quiet save a rumble of soft snores, and from the lack of light it had to be the middle of the night.

At her quiet query of what he was doing he only held his hand out, and when she took it, helped her gingerly to her feet. Lucy shifted in her sleep but didn't wake, and they picked their way quietly out of the den, until she felt the cold snow beneath her hooves and the cut of the wind against her cheeks.

Gajeel still said nothing, but the hand holding hers didn't drop away and he tugged her along until they'd walked some ways past where the rest of the herd slept. The sky was no longer overcast and it had stopped snowing save the odd flurry, and stars winked down at them from the night sky looming over the naked treetops. Her flank ached as she moved, but it felt good not sitting still, and the crunch of snow beneath her hooves made her feel like ambling across the forest floor like a fawn.

"The old fae said I wasn't allowed outside," she said softly, the low murmur breaking the quiet. She berated herself quietly – he knew that as well as she did.

Gajeel snorted. "Can't yell if she doesn't know."

Levy had to smile at that. She hadn't known him long but it was such a _Gajeel_ thing to say. "Why are you doing this?"

He shrugged. "Ya wanted ta go outside," he said simply, as though that was all the incentive he needed.

She felt her cheeks colour, and noted that he'd yet to let her hand drop. "That was...very thoughtful of you," she said, hoping it didn't sound like mockery, but wanting it to convey the elation that was bubbling in her chest.

He turned his gaze away at that, muttering something under his breath, and Levy had to hide a smile. She looked up through the naked branches, and the starlit sky stretching far and wide above them.

"You'd think the missing leaves would make the forest feel naked," she said then, angling her head to get a better look at the all-encompassing darkness and the peppering of stars like a fawn's speckled coat. "But it doesn't, does it?"

He didn't answer, but then she hadn't expected him to. Instead he mimicked her movement, angling his head, and her gaze followed the arch of his antlers against the dark backdrop. She shivered.

"You cold?" he asked then, and she startled, and realized she'd been so caught up with watching him she'd drifted off within her own mind.

She smiled, and nervously tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "A little, but it's fine."

He didn't respond, but shifted closer, his arm brushing against hers and she moved in turn until they were standing so close she could feel the warmth coming off his skin, and the winter night and the flurries drifting in the air seemed leagues away.

"Yer still wearing the crown," he observed, eyes fixed on the top of her head. He raised a brow. "It looks like shit."

Levy mimicked the gesture. "I just think it looks a little rough. Nothing wrong with a little...roughness." She cleared her throat, and bit her lip to hide her growing smile.

He snorted. "That supposed to be a hint?"

She couldn't help but grin at that. "Maybe?"

He smirked – a slow stretch of the lips that had her stomach doing a pleasant flip, and her tail twitched as he bent down towards her, warm fingers reaching up to touch the curve of her jaw as his nose pressed against hers–

"Quite the night we're having."

They broke apart so fast Levy almost lost her footing, and she caught Gajeel's muttered oath as he turned his gaze on some point in the distance. Raising her head, she tried to fight the blush in her cheeks as she regarded the old stag standing a few paces off, arms crossed over his chest.

"Makarov," she squeaked, conscious of the way Gajeel had taken a deliberate step away, and the cold that was now making itself evident.

The grey stag raised a brow, but the wry smile told her she wasn't in serious trouble. "My dear," he greeted. "A little fae told me you shouldn't be on your hooves yet." He gave Gajeel a pointed look. "Though I must say it was awfully kind of Gajeel to let you get some _air._"

Levy cringed, and wrung her hands before her. "Yes – uh, yes it was. Very...kind." She made a point not to look at Gajeel now, but she wondered if he wasn't smirking. She'd have kicked him if he was standing closer.

There was a twinkle in the old deer's eyes, and Levy tried not to feel like a fawn having been caught eating berries before the picking season.

"So," she began, finally risking a glance at Gajeel. "I guess I should...get back before Lucy wakes up and wonders where I've gone off to." Shifting her weight, she gingerly tested her leg, but before she'd even taken a step there were warm fingers curled around her elbow, supporting her. She murmured her thanks, and they started back towards the den.

"Gajeel."

The voice stopped them in their tracks, and Levy kept her gaze firmly fixed on the tips of her hooves, but she noticed Gajeel chancing a glance over his shoulder. She couldn't see Makarov, but the smile was evident in his voice when he spoke, "The snow will be thawing soon."

Her breath hitched in her throat and then she found herself grinning like a fool, because there was _approval_ in those words – the reminder that spring was just around the corner. And it seemed that for all his reclusive behaviour and sour disposition, Gajeel wasn't so much a newcomer anymore. The acceptance of the head of the herd wasn't a thing to be taken lightly.

She heard Gajeel grumble something unintelligible, but his fingers squeezed her arm, and though he didn't look at her all the way back to the den, her spirits had been lifted and she couldn't stop smiling. And suddenly the thought of another week in the cramped interior of the den didn't seem like such an inconvenience.

Because the snow would be thawing soon, and she had a wreath to plan.


	6. part 6

AN: FLOWER CROWNS. My life revolves around flower crowns.

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/krocatoo.

* * *

_Part 6: take my hand and pull me through endless meadows _

Spring in the South was different than the ones he remembered – the slow thaw of the northern climate that still had ice coating the river in May, and white-capped mountains all the way through the summer months.

The snow had been the first to go, followed by heavy downpours and long, humid nights that grew progressively shorter as they days grew longer. The landscape flourished with green and wild growing things, and the wildflower-fields and the decorative crowns on the heads of the does and bucks brought him in mind of something he'd waited for a whole season.

"I was wondering where you'd gone off to."

Cracking one eye open, Gajeel watched Lily take a seat, an odd smile curving along his mouth as he settled down against the trunk of the tree. Then he frowned, and opened both eyes, angling his head to get a better look at his old friend's antlers. "That a new wreath?"

Lily grinned. "Your little doe made it for me," he said, the tips of his fingers brushing against the white water-lilies weaved into a crown with small blue forget-me-nots. "She asked if she could. It's not traditional, but I can't say I don't appreciate the sentiment." His grin widened. "And you two are already defying tradition, so what could it hurt?"

Gajeel snorted, but didn't bother trying to hide his own smile. "You old sap."

Lily laughed. "Well this old _sap_ has a flower crown. What have you got to show?"

Gajeel grumbled, "She ain't given it yet."

"Taking her time, then. Or maybe she's changed her mind?"

Gajeel glared. "You're enjoying this."

"Oh, more than you know," Lily agreed. "She probably hasn't decided on the flowers, yet." Although by the grin he wasn't making any effort to hide, Gajeel knew he didn't believe that for a second. Knowing her, she'd probably had it planned for a good long while.

"It's nice down here in the spring," Lily said then. "I thought I'd miss the North."

Gajeel raised a brow. "Ya don't miss it?"

Lily shrugged, a rueful smile replacing his previously good humoured one. "I miss _her_." He glanced up at the branches hanging above them, thick with white blossoms. "She'd have liked this forest, I think. She didn't much care for the summer snow."

"Neither did you," Gajeel reminded him. "You think things would have been different, if you'd left sooner?" He paused, curiosity spurring him forward. "D'you ever consider it?"

Lily was quiet a long moment before he spoke. "There are hunters everywhere," he said then. "Last autumn taught us that much." He shrugged. "We'd considered it. She wanted a warmer climate, if we were going to have any fawns." He was quiet a moment, before he shook his head. "Who knows? Things might have been different, but who's to say they would have been any better?"

Then he threw a sidelong look at Gajeel. "Maybe you wouldn't have met a doe willing to put up with your crap."

"_Hey_," Gajeel warned, but it was half-hearted. "She ain't the only one having ta put up with shit. 'S a wonder she's made it this far, that damn doe attracts trouble like a lodestone**.**"

Lily only snorted, and looked ready to say something when he squinted, gaze fixed on something across the clearing.

"You goin' blind, old goat?"

"Nope, but you've got company."

Gajeel frowned, and followed his gaze to the sight of two bucks emerging from behind the tree-line. It was Levy's brothers, making their way towards the two of them.

"I'm sensing this is my cue to leave," Lily announced then, and before Gajeel could stop him, he was making his way across the clearing. He threw a grin over his shoulder, and Gajeel caught the greeting as he passed the two bucks, but he stayed in his seat, back against the tree and arms crossed over his chest. Not exactly the picture of friendliness, but that didn't seem to stop the them from approaching.

It was odd seeing them without Levy around, and he wondered a moment why they were there. He'd never had a problem with either of them, even with the news of his poorly disguised courting of their little sister, but there'd been tension there, regardless – a silent warning that he was being watched. It didn't seem very plausible that they'd speak up about it so late, but he couldn't fathom what else it could be.

"Gajeel." And if he'd been looking to read anything from their greeting, he got nothing from _that._

He raised a brow. "Speedy." He looked at the other one, a smirk tugging at his mouth. "Big Buck."

His attempted humour didn't seem to earn him much other than a set of rolled eyes, but the smaller of the two seemed too focused on whatever he'd set out to do to take offence on his brother's behalf. "As I'm sure you're aware, Levy has been planning to make you a wreath."

Gajeel didn't twitch. "So she said."

"Are you still going to accept?"

"Isn't that her question to ask?"

Jet shrugged. "She'll ask you later – this is for us. So, are you?"

Gajeel snorted. "Do I look like a moose to you? 'Course I am."

"And you'll take care of her?"

"The sapling can take care of herself, but if she gets herself into trouble I'll bring 'er home."

That brought out a smile, breaking the severe expression on the red buck's face, and some of the tension lifted a little.

"Are you ever planning on going back north?" the other one asked then.

_That_ caught him off guard, and he frowned, but found only honest curiosity on their faces. And he found he hadn't actually considered the question before. He was northern folk born and bred, same as Lily, and he'd spent his entire life in the evergreen forests at the foot of the Iron Mountains.

But there was nothing there for them, now. There was no herd to go back to, and even if there had been, part of his restless heart had settled with the strange group they'd found in the mellow southern forest. And for all his grumbling, Gajeel realized he didn't much mind the things he'd found so annoying at first, like their raucous singing and their need to celebrate every night like it was Midsummer's Eve. They were good folk – the kind you could rely on, and there were enough young bucks eager to butt heads to keep the grey out of his mane for years to come.

It was...home, and he'd been without one long enough to recognize a good thing when he'd found it.

And so at length he answered, "No."

They looked like they wanted to pry, but no questions came, and Gajeel was glad to see the subject dropped as they suddenly looked at each other and nodded. "Come with us."

He raised a brow, but complied, and followed after them as they cut a path through the forest, away from where the rest of the herd were gathered. He wanted to ask, but wisely kept his mouth shut. There was something strangely formal about it all, and he had an inkling as to what they were doing and where they were taking him. In which case, he was best off avoiding sticking his hoof into his own mouth.

It didn't take them long, making their way towards and across the small brook that marked the northernmost edge of the herd's territory, and then they stopped. Gajeel raised a brow, but Jet nodded towards the tree-line, and with a roll of his eyes at the blatant show of giving permission, Gajeel walked past the two. But he kept his smart remarks to himself as he pushed past the thick foliage.

What met him on the other side had him pausing, brows rising at the sight of the wildflower field sprawling so far and wide all he could see in the distance were the white-capped Iron Mountains rising into the sky.

But what kept him rooted to the spot was the doe kneeling in the grass a few paces off, her grey coat almost silver beneath the late spring sun and her hair brighter than the cloudless sky stretching endless and blue overhead.

Her ears perked at his arrival and she lifted her gaze, shielding her eyes from the sun, and her grin was equal parts elated as it was mischievous – the latter explained by the way she hurriedly hid something behind her back.

Gajeel stepped into the meadow, making no effort to keep from trampling the flowers, despite her call for him to have a care. But her smile was hard to remove, and when he came to stand before her she looked much too pleased with herself. His gaze flickered to the top of her head, and the briar crown she'd woven, this time with rose blossoms. It was an oddly gratifying sight.

"Hey," he greeted, crossing his arms over his chest.

She raised a brow. "Hello to you, too, Gajeel." She grinned. "Out for a frolic?"

Gajeel snorted. "Somethin' like that."

She glanced at the forest behind him, a knowing look on her face. "Did they give you a hard time?"

"Surprised they didn't offer ta butt heads." At her playful glower, he grinned. "Nah, it was only a bunch of questions."

She seemed curious, but instead she said, "Can I ask a question?"

He smirked. "Ask away."

Her gaze flickered to his flank then, and the scar she'd never asked about, though she'd clearly wanted to. "Would you tell me about it?"

He hesitated a moment, and shifted his weight. "Herd I was in before I found Lil's was bad news," he said then. "I got into a lot of trouble, butted a lot of heads. Got this when I challenged the head of his herd."

Her brows raised. "Did you win?"

He smirked. "Nah – Lil did."

Her eyes widened. "Lily was...? And he still let you join?"

Gajeel shrugged. "Surprised me, too, but that's Lily fer ya."

She looked at him then – the same way he remembered from that day they'd first met, as though she'd figure him out if she just looked hard enough. "You've changed," she said. "Since you came here. You're different."

He raised a brow at that. "That a good thing, or...?"

She grinned. "It is." She pursed her lips cheekily. "I know I said I'd wait back then, but I'm glad I'm not making a wreath for the stag you were when we first met." She raised a brow. "Or don't you remember how wonderfully _charming_ you were?"

He snorted. "Yer still hella short."

She sniffed, "And you're still rude," she countered. "But you are nicer, now. Even if you don't want to admit it."

"Nicer, huh?" He grinned. "That the reason ya decided to make me a wreath?" He tried to look behind her, but she shifted her stance, keeping it behind her back and out of his line of sight. "You got something for me, Shorty?"

She tilted her head, eyes twinkling. "That depends."

"On what?"

"Do you have an answer for me?"

He grinned. "Gotta give yours first."

She pursed her lips. "And if you don't like it?"

He shrugged. "I'll still wear it."

Her mouth curved upwards in the kind of smile that said he was going to want to eat his own words, and when she held the wreath out towards him Gajeel had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from saying anything. Baby's breath and pink peonies interwoven with tiny blue forget-me-nots, it hurt his eyes just looking at it.

"Gajeel," she said, much too sweetly, dark eyes grinning with mirth. "Will you accept my wreath as an official offer of courtship?"

He snorted, glancing at her briar crown. "Ain't it been official fer a while?" Even if she'd made this one herself, it was still a pretty obvious sign of claim.

She smacked him with her free hand. "I'm trying to honour tradition here!" She glared up at him, but her eyes were still smiling. "And _no_, it's not really official yet, so you better answer correctly this time. Now, will you accept my wreath?"

And she held it out again, the glaringly cheerful flower crown that should have represented everything he'd once despised about courtship rituals, but he poked at the space within him where his annoyance had so long festered, only to find it gone. In it place was a patient sort of humour, and it was that which allowed him to say, "I _accept_, now put the damn eyesore on my head already."

She grinned, and he bent his head for her to fasten it around his antlers, her deft fingers weaving strands of his hair through the crown to make it sit snugly. "Baby's breath for everlasting love," she spoke then, and he could practically hear her grin in her voice. "Peonies for good fortune." She tugged at a lock of hair, winding it between the flowers. "And," she continued, "Forget-me-nots for remembrance, so that no matter what happens, you'll never forget me."

"There," she breathed, a pleased puff of air, but it turned to a yelp when he lifted his head, capturing her mouth in one swift motion, and swallowing her pleased laughter as she threaded her fingers through his mane. She was still such a laughably short thing – still not tall enough to reach the bottom branches, but the fact was not so much amusing anymore as it was endearing.

When he drew away, her hands were on either side of his face, eyes dark and bright beneath her lashes and the white blossoms of her crown. He smirked. "Like I could forget ya, shortstuff."

She blushed and ducked her head, visibly pleased. When she looked up, her gaze flickered up to his wreath. "Is it very sissy?" she asked.

He didn't miss a beat, fingers gripping her hip, tracing the scarring beneath her soft coat. "It's the sissiest damn crown I've ever seen."

She laughed, and leaned up to kiss him again, her nose pressing against his. He tangled his fingers in the soft curls of her hair, the smell of briar roses sharp in his nose but not unpleasant. "Good," she murmured against his mouth, and when she drew back her grin was wide like the endless sky above them.

"Because I made it just for you."

* * *

AN: Gajeel's flower crown makes me happy just thinking about it. Also, the next part will be the last, so stay tuned!


	7. part 7

AN: I hope you've enjoyed this story; it began as a prompt on tumblr that grew legs and ran away with me, but I've had a lot of fun writing it. And thank you so much for all your lovely comments!

Disclaimer: Fairy Tail and its characters belong to Hiro Mashima; I own absolutely nothing. Cover image by Meagan/krocatoo.

* * *

_epilogue: greener pastures still to come_

"Uncle – Uncle!"

Lily shielded his eyes from the sun, watching the yearling scramble through the high grass towards him, arms full of wildflowers and his wreath askew on his head – a crown of primroses and gooseberry blossoms.

"You making wreaths for the whole herd, youngin?"

The yearling looked down at his armful, a familiar frown pulling his little brows down, above which jutted a pair of blunt antlers that were just coming in. "Is it too much? I was gunna make one fer ma."

Lily held out a hand. "Well, there's no rule that says how many flowers you can put in," he said. "Come here and I'll help you pick out the best."

The grin was all his mother's, and he nodded eagerly as he bounded over to settle down beneath the tree, gently placing the mound of flowers before them. "Ma likes the blue ones," he said, holding up a solitary bluebell. Then he scrambled for a forget-me-not, "But this is her favourite!"

Lily hummed. "So it is. And you'd want some marigolds, too, yeah? Your aunt likes those, and they are very good friends."

The little yearling nodded eagerly. "And pink snapdragons! Aunt Lu makes wreaths for uncle Natsu with those!"

Lily grinned. "Your mother will be wearing the flowers of the whole herd on her head at this rate," he noted.

There was the frown again, and there was so much of Gajeel in that, Lily could never fully get used to it. "Is that okay?"

"Oh, I'd say it is. You're going to have to make a very special one to outshine your da's."

The small nose wrinkled. "But da's crowns are all _thorny_, and they've got no flowers."

Lily laughed. "That's true. But your mother likes them, doesn't she?"

The yearling's ears twitched, and he seemed to be thinking it over. "I don't have any briars – they're prickly."

"I think you've got more than enough without them, don't you? Here, let me show you." And he picked up a handful of flowers. "You go like this, see? Under and over." Eager garnet eyes tracked the movements of his fingers, and when he handed the partially braided crown of flowers over, the yearling scrambled to grab it.

"Like this?"

"Yeah, but you've got to weave them a little tighter, or the wreath will come apart."

The instructions were followed, and for a moment they sat in silence beneath the branches, lush and green with midsummer leaves. The yearling said little, tongue caught between his teeth as fingers unused to the craft braided the flowers together – marigolds and forget-me-nots. He struggled with a snapdragon, and Lily reached over to help when the crown was proffered, until it sat in the lad's lap, whole and round, though perhaps a little lopsided.

"Will you be weaving a crown for your little sister this year?" Lily asked then, but the lad grimaced at the question.

"Maybe."

His father's frown was firmly in place, and Lily tried not to smile. "She's new to the world this spring, you know."

"Mm."

Lily only shook his head, and looked up and across the clearing at the rustle of leaves announcing the arrival of Gajeel and the subject in question. "There they are now. She's a little unsteady on her hooves still," he said, watching the silvery-coated doe amble at her father's side, hanging by his hand. She was a tiny thing, only so tall that the dark crown of her head was visible over the grass. Gajeel lifted a hand in greeting, but his gaze was quickly drawn back to the fawn tugging at his fingers, attention caught like in a snare.

The yearling at his side pursed his lips at the sight. "Da's got her if she falls," came the mutter, and this time Lily did laugh. It wasn't at all uncommon for yearlings to feel some jealousy for their younger siblings, and in this he was his father's son, right down to the disgruntled jut of his lower lip.

Lily glanced towards his old friend, only to find him pulling leaves out of the fawn's hair, wild and unmanageable like her mother's but dark like the rich soil underfoot. She'd been born early, but had grown strong and fierce like the strong summer winds – a hurricane of silver and eyes large and dark in her face, the apples of her cheeks forever ripe and round with her easy smiles.

"Are you happy, Uncle Lily?"

Looking down at the little deer, Lily was surprised to find concern there, on the face of someone who had only ever seen the best of life – who had never seen the impression of bootprints in the snow, or heard Man's voice mimicking theirs, to lure the young ones into the open. But the lad had heard the stories, of the reason why his mother was the one who made his uncle a wreath every spring, and why he didn't have any fawns or yearlings to call _cousin._ He'd heard, and the sentiment was true, vivid on the small, expressive face that so clearly showed his every thought to the world.

There was an ache behind his ribs, but Lily grinned. "Happy as I could be, kiddo." He reached out, pushing the wreath back in place, the yellow and white flowers bright against the dark hair. "And don't you ever doubt that."

The yearling looked at his flower crown then, sitting in his lap. He chewed on his bottom lip, and seemed to turn things over in his mind – his mother's son then, in the thoughtful, far-away look in his eyes. It was an amusing sight, to be sure.

Then he looked up, chin lifted in that determined way Lily remembered from the summer he'd been dared to poke a large hornet nest the herd's fawns had discovered.

"Ma has a wreath already," he said, tail twitching, and Lily recognized the defensive way of speaking, but kept his smile from stretching too wide. "And...I guess _someone_ should make one for Shagotte." Fingers smudged green and yellow from the flowers tugged at the blades of grass by his side, and when he looked at Lily next there was a question there – clear in his garnet eyes though he would never voice it out loud.

Lily nodded. "She'd love that."

The yearling mumbled something about duty and being the eldest, and Lily could only smile, watching as the lad made his way towards where his father stood, the wreath hidden behind his back as he cut his way through the tall grass. When he reached them, he dropped the crown on the fawn's head without ceremony, which prompted the little doe to launch herself at her brother with an elated shriek. Gajeel shot Lily a patient but humoured look, before his attention was once again claimed, this time to adjust the crown on his daughter's head.

Lily drew his eyes away as he leaned his head back against the tree, ears listening for the laughter across the clearing as he looked up through the branches. The sky visible beyond the leaves was a perfect, cloudless blue – the kind that made it easy to forget life's hardships forever lurking in the shade of the forest, a constant weight to carry in a heart heavy with equal parts sorrow as joy.

But what he'd told the lad had been the truth – he was happy, or as close to it as he could get in the softly swaying grass under the warm summer sun. The years hadn't made a southerner of him yet, but he'd found home with this new herd. There were flowers around his antlers every spring and summer, memories weaved in blue and white, and littleuns who tugged at his hands, asking for stories and calling him 'uncle' with a fondness he'd long thought himself undeserving.

He was _happy._ The summer warmth was hazy and the forest wild and thriving with living things, and life was good beneath the sky as blue as the flowers in his crown. And Lily kept his memories close, but his new family closer still, always making sure to remember what was in front of him and not behind. He'd watch his niece and nephew play and grow, and keep his heart firmly rooted in the rich, southern soil of the present moment.

But if he thought he saw the silhouette of a white doe in the corner of his vision, ambling free and wild in the evergreen pastures of the hereafter, well, that was his business.

* * *

AN: If anyone is interested, I might write some extra pieces with the other deer-folk in the herd?


End file.
